


Arthur, shut the fuck up!

by hpjk_addict



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:48:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28358802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpjk_addict/pseuds/hpjk_addict
Summary: Arthur walks in on Tommy and Alfie kissing and reveals a shocking family secret. Tommy is left to deal with the consequences.
Relationships: Arthur Shelby & Tommy Shelby, Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Kudos: 29





	Arthur, shut the fuck up!

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a short collection of scenes and drabbles that I have in my head regarding Tommy and Alfie, which will include some mpreg, some implied incest, and an occasional direct quote from the show. This is my happy place and I'm not taking any objections or complaints at the moment.

“ _Arthur – shut – the – fuck – up!_ ” hisses Tommy, but it’s already too late. _Jesus Christ_ . That cat is out of the fucking bag and Alfie is looking entirely too pleased with the whole debacle, so, really, Tommy thinks, there’s no way that he hasn’t heard that particular family secret. “That’s fucking lovely, mate,” Alfie chortles. Actually fucking _chortles_ with what could only be classified as unalloyed delight _._ “Lovely. Wonderful.” Tommy clenches his jaw and, ignoring Alfie, gives his brother his best icy glare. For all the good that it does. “Alright, yeah, alright,” mutters Arthur, not looking up from where he’s studying the floor. And then, as though he hasn’t done enough damage already, he goes and fucking says, “Taught him everything he knows, didn't I?” Tommy is just about ready to pull his gun on him but then Alfie seems to be having some kind of seizure as he doubles over, leaning on his cane and wheezing as though he’s choking. Tommy is seriously contemplating that he might be expiring from a heart attack when he realizes that the bastard is fucking laughing. “Didn’t teach him much then, eh, mate?” he jeers, straightening up at last and looking at Arthur with what must be tears of mirth that at some point started running down his ruddy face; his beard is twitching. Arthur lets out a roar like a fucking animal that he is and launches himself at Alfie. Tommy, having anticipated as much, is just in time to stop him from impaling himself on Alfie’s cane. “Watch where you’re going now there’s a good lad,” says Alfie in mock concern, lowering his cane and shaking his head. Arthur’s face is going through some terrible transformation that’s excruciating to watch as it becomes blotchy and red and distorted with impotent rage that is apparently trying to erupt through his skin. So Tommy grabs Arthur around the neck and pushes him towards the door. Arthur, predictably, puts up a fight. “That’s enough, Arthur,” growls Tommy, bringing their heads together and speaking into his ear in a low soothing voice as though to a spooked horse until Arthur begins to show signs of cooperation. “That’s it, brother,” says Tommy encouragingly, clapping him on the back and steering him out of the room. “That’s it.” 

As soon as Arthur’s gone, Tommy takes a deep breath and schools his features into his usual mask of indifference and aloofness before turning around to face Alfie. Alfie is gazing expectantly at him, leaning on his cane with both hands, looking as harmless as anything with his eyebrows raised and his eyes wide open and innocent. Tommy doesn’t buy the innocent act for one second. “Alfie – I swear – if you so much as – ” he begins but stops when Alfie’s cane, suddenly and very uncomfortably, is lodged right beneath his chin, tipping his head upwards. “Sweetie, what makes you think, right, what makes you fucking think, that you are in any position to threaten me, eh?” Tommy doesn’t reply, forcing himself not to break eye contact. He doesn’t so much as blink, which is something that he’s fucking good at. Holding perfectly still, he’s staring Alfie straight in the eye, trying to gauge his mood. Is he angry or jealous or amused? His face shows nothing whatsoever. For a moment Tommy wonders if that’s it. Are they done? Is Alfie done with him? Has Arthur’s stupid stunt put an end to a fucking fine arrangement they had going? When Alfie clears his throat and lowers his cane, Tommy resists the urge to swallow the lump that got stuck in his throat at the thought. “So here I was thinking, mate,” Alfie begins in his usual rambling fashion, “wondering, right, what kind of… what kind of _reason_ ... can there possibly be that would explain that blind – nah – that _biblical_ devotion... right...” He’s looking at Tommy with one of his eyebrows raised, moving his cane back and forth. “He’s like a feral dog on a tight leash, doing your fucking bidding, isn’t he? I guess that’s one way to ensure his unwavering loyalty, innit? I’m impressed, Tommy. Fucking impressed. I didn’t think that even you would stoop that low. But then your depravity – just like your arrogance and ambition – knows no bounds, does it?”

Tommy sighs and raises his eyes to the ceiling, wondering what he ever did to deserve it. He knew that Arthur would react badly if he ever found out about him and Alfie. That’s why, ideally, he had no intentions of ever letting him know that they were more than just business partners, which is why, he supposes, he really shouldn’t have tempted fate by kissing Alfie in the drawing room, knowing that Arthur was nearby and could walk in on them at any moment. Except, of course, tempting fate is what Tommy does. So, really, he should have known on some level at least that it had the potential to blow up in his face, which it did most spectacularly. Then again, whenever he contemplated the possibility of a discovery (he would have been a fool not to), he always assumed that Arthur would be too incoherent with rage to talk. He expected him to use his fists and was reasonably confident in his ability to intervene before it could get out of control. But Arthur is a wild card at the best of times and pumped on cocaine and whiskey and pills there’s no saying what he’ll do or say, so there’s always that to consider. Though, admittedly, telling Alfie that he was Tommy’s first was the very last thing Tommy expected him to say – even when taking into account the obnoxious manner in which Alfie told Arthur that, yeah, he very much enjoyed fucking Tommy on a regular basis, thank you very much.

“Now, treacle, whenever you’re done rolling your pretty blue eyes at the ceiling...” says Alfie, cutting through Tommy’s train of thought and forcing him to meet his eyes again. He doesn’t look or sound angry, Tommy thinks, which means absolutely fucking nothing when it comes to Alfie. Tommy puts his hands in his pockets, leans against the wall and gives Alfie his full attention with an air of a person who is fucking fed up with everything. “I am prepared, right, to overlook certain – depraved things – that have come to light, yeah,” says Alfie. “But, quite naturally, it will take some effort on my part and some convincing on yours. Therefore, there will be conditions – ” Tommy raises an eyebrow, looking interested. “Conditions, eh?” he asks, his eyes glinting with possibilities. Negotiating terms and conditions is familiar ground and his gambling soul is already itching to see what he can get out of the deal. “Yeah, it is, it is,” says Alfie distractedly. Tommy feels the change a split second before Alfie’s affable manner turns into something dark and possessive that takes Tommy’s breath away. “I don’t fucking share, mate. That’s non-fucking-negotiable. Yeah?” Tommy shakes his head. “You don’t have to, Alfie, you don’t have to.” Alfie nods. "I remember, right, being rather more pleasurably occupied before we were so rudely interrupted," he says then. Tommy licks his lips as he places his arms around his neck. "You will have to refresh my memory, Mr Solomons," he whispers, leaning forward. Alfie hums under his breath. "Yeah?" Tommy nods. "Yeah."


End file.
